Revolution Rising
by The Tallest
Summary: Two years after ShinRa's fall, the Liftestream is making its comeback. AVALANCHE has dispersed to begin their lives anew. One, however, requires a rude awakening (Major update. No longer OC. Vincent's here, though! Read if you like a certain pairing.)
1. Commerce

R for language and material to come.

Disclaimer: Squaresoft is pretty. Too pretty. So pretty that I am not worthy. Not worthy, I say! Therefore I do not own any of their cool stuff, like the toys and the Materia and the people, and Vincent and the cities and the names… and Vincent. You know the drill.

Chapter 1

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The clerk stacked the parcels neatly atop of one another, marking the price tag on each of them. Swiftly, he noted the gil required and calculated the sum in his head, trusting his mathematical skills. There was no time to double check or consult his assistant, for neither was possible. The shop was packed, the air thick with recycled air and body heat of bustling customers. He could feel the sweat gathering under his arms and collar, the temperature seeming to rise with each new purchase that was brought to him. His ears rang with the hum of conversation, various opinions and choices being shouted across the small boutique. The sounds reverberated, multiplying them several times their actual volume. None of these details were any relief to his now-throbbing headache. Ceela had returned home early after her fever rose above a comfortable level. It was his own decision, but he was beginning to long for her assistance. The familiar assembly line formed by their teamwork had been reduced to a single middle-aged man working his ass off behind a slab of a counter.

"That'll be 650 gil, sir. It's discounted due to the weather", he spoke with his well-rehearsed, 'don't-I-sound-freakishly-cheery?' tone, then handed the brown-wrapped package to the customers awaiting arms.

Without a word of thanks, the man scooped up his recent purchase and disappeared from sight. The clerk stole a sigh, letting his aching shoulders slump as the heat pressed against him like a giant muffler. The voices seemed to prattle on eternally behind him.

"...Storm of the decade, I hear."

"Seven inches in the past two hours! It's unheard of!"

"...Sweet Shiva..."

"...Was bound to happen."

"It's a good thing, I think."

"Shut up and get in line!"

"...Gotta get these clothes home to my family."

"I ain't freezin'. No sir."

"The hell? You're wearing spandex! Not even Ifrit could run into this storm and survive, much less with spandex!"

And it continued on, and on and on. He yearned for these people to cease their bickering just buy the damned sweaters. He needed to leave before the snow reached the windows, or else he'd be camping out with the mannequins. He seized the lull to steal a glance outside. A torrent of frosted air spun the snow up and around in vicious whirlwinds, frosting the glass and wedging between the panes. He shivered despite the unbearable warmth within. Merely thinking about the trek home was painful enough. Those four blocks were beginning to seem like miles, now that he faced a rapidly darkening horizon. Leviathan, if he ever got out of here...

"Hey, there ... uh ...buddy? Y'ello?" An inquisitive voice called from the opposite side of the counter, reeling him in from his split-second retreat. 

His eyes took a moment to adjust to a much less frequent type of customer. From the looks of the woman, no, girl, she had to be very nomadic. A quick sweep from head to toe only strengthened his assumption, noting the disheveled, oddly styled garments. Finally they settled on her eyes- correction, eye, for there appeared to be only one. If there was a second, he could not tell, for a loosely draped cloth obscured the right side of her face. It was very similar to an eye patch, he considered, only very curtain-y and lacking the patch effect. Its presence offered him a single grayish eye to meet, leaving him feeling slightly awkward. Still, at least there -was- an eye. 

He found his usual tone and offered this girl the last of his smiles, "Forgive me. Did you find everything okay?"

Uncertainty melted from her face, disappearing like a fleeting thought. Two gloved hands pushed a bundle of thick sweaters and a scarf towards him. 

"Yes, I did, thank you. No apology necessary." She hastily tucked a rather long pock of hair behind her frostbitten ear and away from her good eye. "Can you leave these unwrapped? I'd like to wear them out."

"No problem," he spoke as he separated the two sweaters and scarf. In no time, he had the final price all added up in his head. Damn, he was good at this.

"That' 576 gil, miss", he looked up, his weak smile still quirking tired lips. 

However, her own mouth twisted into a frown. Oh, he had an idea as to what the problem was. She emptied a pouch at her waist, handing over what seemed to be all of her funds. "I have 200. What'll that get me?"

Already, he was beginning to pity this girl. He had no such liberty to give merchandise away, but the weather was horrendous. "The black scarf, miss..."

"I'll take it," came her instant reply. She counted out the proper fee and slid it across the counter with a sweep of her hand. Before the clerk could even collect it, she was already wrapping the meager strip of flannel around her neck. After a moment of staring at her blankly, he realized that this young woman was about venture out into the frigid cold armed with that single scarf. The rest of her attire appeared to have been thrown together in the dark, hardly strong enough to defend flesh against the deadly ice winds of the snowy plains. She scooped up whatever gil she had left and pulled her dismembered sleeves in a futile attempt to gain more protection. With a swift pivot, she turned her back towards him and began to weave her way through the remaining crowds, glimpses of tiny braids appearing with each movement. 

The clerk opened his mouth to protest, "Wait! Maybe I can-!" The bell chimed as it bounced against the wooded doorframe, tinkling as it shut, marking her exit. 

She was gone and the thick wool sweaters sat abandoned on the counter. Perhaps, he thought, the girl had a place at the inn. The moment the idea slipped into his head, the more assured of it he became. Yes, that seemed logical. The Inn was popular with tourists and visitors. In fact, it was most likely the dire reason people ventured into this quaint town. No thick-skulled, dim witted, muscled dolt would even think about wandering into that blizzard. The young woman seemed far too young to consider such a feat. He returned to his business.

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Chapter Two: In progress

Author Notes: Edits to come. Slow start, yeah, but this is my first. I'm not big on the idea of using complete canon casts. Original characters are more fun for me and make more of a case of the rest of you. To the supportively criticizing ones, please give me all the feedback you can offer. You'll get more of a character image in the next chapter. As for you prejudice haters, keep your flames to yourself and just bitch amongst each other. Thank ya. ^_^


	2. Wasteland

Disclaimer: It aint mine, I swearz! Really! I just want the vampire! I don't own Final Fantasy or anything in it! I just have an obsession and won't admit it, so-…aww shit. Just read the damn story.

Chapter 2

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"Cooooooooold!!!"

The cry seemed to instantly drown in the relentless onslaught of snow flurries. Flurry seemed to kind a word for these harsh, icy winds. Her face was numb, making blinking a more difficult task than she ever deemed possible. Her eye stung with the invasion of frosted pellets and snowflakes, unable to shield her from them. No matter where she turned, another frozen slap in the face was always waiting for her. She had wrapped the scarf around her neck and lower part of her face to keep some meager part of her thawed. It was just barely successful. How she longed for a big, fuzzy, electric helmet. They needed to exist. They had to. It was imperative to humanity that big fuzzy, electric helmets be sold on every street corner and marketplace, so that no person would have to-

"Cold, cold, coooooold!!" She shook her head vigorously, unable to bear the thought of heat she could not attain. 

The snow had reached her knees and soaked through the fabric of her single pant leg. Never had her outfit seemed so useless. At the time, it seemed like a stylish, new age fashion statement, what with material only covering one leg and having shorts on the opposite. Now, it seemed the like the stupidest thing she had ever done. The olive garment hung from her hips, baggy and full around her left leg while the right was left with your average cutoff short. The left leg wasn't entirely barren, for she had a large, metal-plated shin guard and kneepad covering the vulnerable flesh. It even wrapped around her calf and heel. 

Her shirt was a series of lightweight plates, thin and thick fabric. The ensemble was connected with a series of wrings that connected the thick cotton collar to the neck of her undershirt, leaving shoulders bare, save some netting. Both arms were encased in armguards that mocked gauntlets of sorts. The outer layer was topped with a thin, unadorned breastplate that ended several inches from her navel, completing her armor. Armor indeed. Armor for what? Snow bunnies? Hurrah for that! Screw defense. She needed Ifrit to come at her with a fire attack to the face. Hot damn. Literally. 

Yet here she was, trudging through this frozen wasteland without so much as a match.

The night had carried on like an arctic nightmare, never once allowing the snow and ice to settle. Her body remained frigid without relief in sight. This sinking feeling in her stomach began to sink further into her bladder, weighing her down with dread. This had been a very, very _bad _idea.

Another gust of wind sent her frost tipped braids flying, slapping her face like pinpricks. The thin russet bunches were most unkind, scratching her face without mercy. Maybe she could break one off and chew on it. That might stimulate a few muscles.

The icy mountains were an absolute nightmare to cross, but they carried the promise of hidden caves within their rocky hulls. All that stood between her and the frozen oasis was the very ridge she stood upon. 

She began a mantra, reminding herself of life beyond the snow as she dragged onward. There was more! The Popsicle from Hell would be just a bad memory soon.

_Just a couple more days… Then it's off to Costa Del Sol… Sun… Burning concrete…_ _Hot sand in the ass… Sun… UV rays… Skin cancer…_

"Bring on the sun burns, baby!!!! " She shouted, thrusting her arm above her head as if she had just won a prize at the Golden Saucer. 

But, oh, how she was… not… at the Golden Saucer.

The ground groaned beneath, causing her momentary celebration an abrupt end. Her eye widened as her arm retreated back down to her side. At once, she became extremely wary, not trusting the ice to be so vocal in its opinions. 

"…"

Without any other warnings, the ice gave out from beneath her. What had once been remotely decent footing now became a deadly sinkhole. Her arms left her sides to flail out around her, waving unsteadily as she tried to keep upright. Down she went, screaming wordlessly, slipping into the icy chute for an uncomfortably wild ride. She hit the walls so harshly that the contact shook her to the bone, deeming the armor useless. Merely seconds later, it spit her out like a bad grape, sending her tumbling into the frigid snow. Her body tumbled, rolled and bounced until she came to a halt against the single protruding rock she had seen the entire day. She met it shoulder first, yelping at the harsh contact. The skin stung, raw and unprotected against the harsh climate. She deemed it hardly worth nursing and rose to her feet, shaky and unsure. The ground beneath was equally unsteady, for she knew this mountain range was a death trap. That ice chute was not a comforting memory. Her single, wild gray eye darted about frantically. Now the paranoia would set in and leave her as jittery as ever. That chute couldn't have been the last. She was hardly that naive (only a little bit, honestly).

On the plus side, she had gotten to her feet with little trouble. Her body was still intact and functioning properly. Well, at least the breathing, standing and worrying part. She couldn't feel any of that occasional moisture between her legs, so she had managed to avoid pissing her pants! That alone was worth about 3 self-awarded brownie points.

A semi-gloved hand skimmed her right arm from elbow to shoulder. It ceased moving as soon as she felt the small twinge of pain, mentally noting she'd taken hull damage right about… there. It wasn't bleeding, but the skin had taken on a much rougher texture. It was skinned and bruised, most likely. Leaving it be, she tightened the scarf once more, pulling it taught against the cold skin of her face. The pressure against her back was comforting, knowing that her cargo was still safe beneath a harness of belts. An oddly shape object lay across her back, obscured by the leather.

When she felt as though her bone marrow had frozen, she began to move again and get that blood flowing. The wind howled, nipping at her ears as she trudged onward, her thick-soled shoes crunching the ice beneath. Onward, onward she marched. Well, sort of marched. It wasn't a very lively march, at that. 

It came to a very quick halt, too.

Her head snapped upwards, no longer focused on her footing. She heard it. The wind carried a sound that no mountain alone could make, no matter how ill fated it might have been. Her eye strained to see through the relentless snow flurries while her left hand slowly wandered up and over her shoulder, fingers mingling blindly through a series of leather straps. 

Then it came, a cloud of steam billowing out before it, and then fading. Again and again, she saw the cloud rise and fall as the snout and body came into view. Oh, how she frowned.

"For the love of…." She groaned through clenched teeth as the Bandersnatch stalked forward, its fangs bared and dripping with steaming saliva. The way its nostrils flared as it stared her down, panting heavily as if fantasizing… yeah, she wanted out. Fast. She didn't like the whole dinner on ice idea. 

The wandering hand found its target and unclipped the belts, drawing out what appeared to be a metal crossbow. Fumbling against the cold, she began to strap it onto her arm with the opposite hand, fingers tumbling clumsily to achieve this. Meanwhile, the Bandersnatch was making his wolfish advances, giving her the 'I'm-gonna-eat'cha-n'-vomit-up-your-bones' stare. 

"God, I hate these things… stupid… overgrown… inbred… monkey-dogs…" 

She grumbled, pulling the straps tight against her. With a hiss of victory, she thrust her newly armed hand outward, making use of that one good eye. 

The creature snarled viciously, making ready to pounce. Its thickly furred body sank low into the ice, muscles bunching up beneath skin as it readied itself for the attack.

_Come ooooon, Materia… _She dug into her pouch, digging out the ammunition she needed. As she removed her hand, she eyed the contents. It wasn't pretty.

"What???" she squawked, gaping at her stock, "One Fire??? 'The flippin' @#%$!!" Her gaze snapped towards the wolfish fiend, glaring angrily.

"You little bastard. I ain't wasting this shit on you. Find your own damn fire."

It growled. It wasn't a nice growl, either. It was the kind of growl that made her wish she had stuck around Icicle for a tad longer, maybe a month or two. Instead, she cringed and scrambled for her less appealing, second option. Digging further, she whipped out a few metallic orbs and loaded them into the feed. 

Planting her feet as firmly as possible in the snow, she outstretched her bow arm before her and clicked the fodder into the barrel. With the pull of the trigger, the mouth exploded and shot the orbs forward, both piercing the wolf creature's shoulder. It yelped, thrown from its pre-pounce position. She grinned from behind her scarf, sensing the approaching victory. 

But the Bandersnatch merely growled deeper, then threw its vile head back in a howl. The shivers had a field day, spiraling down her back and winding around her spine. It was suddenly very, very quiet. 

Until four more clouds of breath began to appear, two on either side of her opponent, accompanied by a chorus of dangerous growls. 

Her throat became dry. Very, very dry. Slowly, she repositioned the bow before her, staring down the steel shaft and at the center enemy, watching as its emerald eyes remained completely focused on her frozen body. The pallid masses of fur advanced slowly, almost leisurely. She could feel the moist warmth of their breath as they inhaled deeper, taking in her sent. 

She shut her eye and pulled the trigger.


	3. Bite Me Again

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN THIS!!!! (Beat that, you creative geniuses!)

Chapter 3:

_Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods..._

Each word seemed matched with its own separate, heaved breath. Nothing was turning out right. Nothing at all. Oh sure, she was supposed to look cool and all, kicking these meddlesome beasts' asses... but those asses were damn hard to kick when she couldn't even stand up straight. That was so not her fault, either. 

Another set of jaws snapped at her calf, triggering a high-pitched yelp from her own lips and an increase of speed.

She was running with her tail between her legs, arms pumping back and forth in a sad attempt to give her an extra boost... that never seemed to come. Her Material bow had been forgotten and left strapped to her arm, merely a useless weight on her arm. Damn, how this had turned for the worse.

The Bandersnatch pack seemed to be having one wonderful romp through the mountains, all chasing at her like some skittery rabbit. She, on the other hand, was panting furiously, her legs working into overtime as she fled. Sometime during her full-fledged retreat, the scarf had slipped down below her chin, where it hung limply and flew out behind her like a banner. All she needed were a few neon yellow letters that read, "Dinner To Go". How could this have gone so wrong? She dove momentarily into the past few seconds to try and figure this one out...

**

_She pulled the trigger._

_Again, and again, and again. Wide-eyed and incredulous, she stared down the barrel of her malfunctioning weapon. _

_"You lousy piece of shit! Don't crap out on me now! For the love of all things warm and fuzzy, WOOOORK!!"_

_It merely clicked in refusal, spiting her with its mechanical failures. The arctic creatures merely stared onward with rather awkward expressions, as if they hadn't quite expected such an outcome as well. Still, they weren't complaining. They advanced while the girl swore loudly, using language best left for the solitude of the frozen mountains. _

_"Mother bleeping ass-faced... RETREAT!" She hollered, spinning on her heel and making a mad dash to her left. Only, it was more of a stumble-slip that later developed into a dash after a few more mouthfuls of ice. Sputtering, she leapt forward, her boots propelling her off the frozen surface and onto her escape. Oh, but how they followed, nipping at her heels and barking as she screamed in reply. _

_"This is what I get for being a consumer???" She stole a fleeting look at the sky, pleading to the gods above for a decent explanation. She had a warranty on that cross bow. Well, it was a warranty. Now it was toilet paper... at least it -would- be if she ever saw a toilet again._

_Still, the gods left her no reply and continued to watch as she fled through the snow in what had to be the most ungraceful retreat in history. Clothes just weren't -meant- to rip like that._

_On and on... she ran._

**

Running and running, even as she returned to the moment, finding herself exhausted and fleeing for her life. 

Massive paws tore up the snow, sending a wave of it cascading into her and stinging her skin with the shocking chill. She spat and gagged, surging onward as her lungs heaved and ached with the effort. Her heart felt as though it would give out with each valve's effort. Pumping blood wasn't so fun anymore.  A gush of searing breath billowed against her leg, and then became a vicious pain at the back of her leg. She screamed, wordless as the beast tore at the bare skin. It nearly ripped the straps of her armor to pieces, pulling at it with such terrible vigor. That was the final straw.

Snarling with her own renewed vitality, she tore open her item pouch once more and grasped the subtle heat. Out came a leveled Fire Materia, gripped tightly in her hand as she prepared herself. With a quick, steadying breath, she planted her feet into the snow and stopped, leaning forward dangerously as inertia took effect. The wolves, however, continued forward, barely able to settle enough to change their course. 

A victorious smirk wormed its way to her lips as she wound her arm back. 

"Oh HO! Take this, fools! Fire 2!!"

She grunted with the effort of her throw, sending the glowing orb flying into the unaware pack. It soared through the bitter winds towards her bestial foes. A blinding explosion roared before her, accompanied by the pained whimpers of dying Bandersnatches. She could merely stare for a moment as the Materia... well... kicked major ass. Perhaps it had been a higher level than she thought. 

_Shit... There goes my bonfire._

Instead, it had created a smoldering pile of burning animal flesh. She wasn't quite sure if she was desperate enough to seek comfort from that, either. Yet, as the realization of victory set in, her grin was back with a victory pose.

"Silly pups! Nobody messes with-"

The peak above her growled and moaned, once again sending a familiar jolt of fear through her cold ridden body. Slowly, she lifted her eye upwards, ONLY to be bitch slapped by a massive wave of ice and snow. It knocked her off her feet and onto her rear, sending the breath flying from her lungs. It covered the wolves' bodies without leaving so much as a ripple.  She rolled and screamed and rolled some more, carried further and further down the mountain by the unforgiving force of nature: avalanche.

"MOMMY!!" her voice echoed throughout the range, only to be lost in the drowning roar of ice. She spun and swirled atop it, all balance lost to the unyielding wave. 

_Someone make it end! I swear I'll never whine again! I'll never take candy from babies or spit in public again! Just make it stop!_

Her body was suddenly in the air, arms and legs free from the harsh cold of the winter wasteland. At first, she thought Bahamut himself had answered her prayer and taken her up from this torturous trek. She thought better of it as soon as she opened her eye and saw herself heading straight for another block of sparkling ice. At that moment, she cursed the god, casting him off as a lazy son of a-

She threw her arms in front of her face, creating a shield of bone and flesh for the landing to come. The contact was harsh and unforgiving, prying her eye open and sending a barrage of stars to blind her. Her body slumped to the familiar, icy bitterness. After the initial shock of it all, a sharp pain speared her entire body and shook her to the bone. Then the blizzard began again, coating her with its blanket of chilled softness. She whimpered in agony, out of breath and energy. Slowly, she curled her knees up under her chin, assuming the fetal position. Everything hurt way too much. Nothing was working in her favor anymore. Things had been going so well. She felt proud, on top of the world. Now it was just a fading memory that she yearned to make her reality. It wouldn't happen. Lady Luck had smiled on her one time, but now she just dumped her ashtray atop the downtrodden girl. 

Her throat tightened as a sob threatened to shake her once concrete resolve. Self-pity was very slowly beginning to ooze through the cracks. Her skin prickled and stung with frostbite. She knew at least one of her eyebrows had to have frozen. Damnit, she needed a better place to wallow and sulk. Lifting her head groggily, she narrowed her eye to pierce through the frigid winds. What she saw caused it to widen in momentary surprise. Something dark, tall and ominous loomed before her. It wasn't miles away, either, which caused even greater astonishment. Filled with a new vigor, she rose unsteadily, favoring her aching limbs. Bloodied and bruised, she plodded onwards. As soon as she covered at least two yards, it became clear to her exactly what this was.

A house. No, a manor. Mansion, even. The outside was dull brown and unpainted. Someone had crafted this without actually taking paint into consideration. But despite its lack of a protective layer, here it stood; amidst the cruelest storm she had ever seen. Snow and ice caked the windows and wedged between the panes. Teeth chattering, she plowed along its length, placing her gloved palms against the rough surface. She paused at the door and simply stared for a moment. Her blue tinted lips curved downwards in a frown.

The double doors were thick and gothic in appearance, the wood darker then the rest of the exterior. The foreboding part was the harsh marking across it. Deep gashes stretched from the center to the very bottom, three rows on either door. They looked like claw marks, thickening the farther they went, but they were absolutely massive. Not even a Bandersnatch could have done this, much less an arctic one. Stupid things...

Her left hand wandered along the gaping marks. Palms flat against the door, she pushed it at it. Now, she really didn't know what good it'd do, but hell, the door opened. She jumped back in surprise and felt her leg protest immediately. Wincing, she decided sudden movements were probably going to do much more damage than she would like to deal with. Inhaling deeply, she stepped through the threshold and left the wasteland behind her.

What greeted her was a dark living room almost completely void of furniture. It was drafty, even as she shut the door behind her. Still, it wasn't nearly as harsh as that godforsaken ice pit outside. Two couches sat in the lonely room, facing an empty fireplace. Her heart leapt at the sight. Fire! Oh, there had to be something to burn here, even if she had to throw the sofa in. She would have her warmth. 

Gradually, she gained more confidence and moved further into the house. The ice began to melt, dripping from her body in small amounts. Her clothes were damp and cold, clinging to her body like ineffective blubber. With a trembling breath, she began to undo the straps of her abandoned Gun Bow and returned it to her back. God, what a waste of gil. 

The floorboards creaked beneath her boots, the soles of her shoes leaving moist prints on the dusty surface. Her hair lay plastered to her face, nearly black in this lightless manor. A door stood off to her right, instantly drawing her attention. She never denied her curiosity, or her willingness to appease it. She grasped the knob and turned, finding herself staring down a wooden staircase. This felt like a bad slasher scene, were the innocent teenager goes skipping down the stairs, knowing something's in there, but blatantly ignores all sense her pitiful brain might have retained during endless affairs with various men... then gets her head bitten off by an axe wielding rat boy who just happened to be that guy she slept with last winter. 

Damn, she needed a life. Yet she had to get down these stairs. She needed wood to burn, and matches. Or something like matches. If anything attacked her, she could always throw her shoe at it and swear it to death. Forsaking all her common sense, she descending the staircase with barely enough light to see two feet in front of her. Any deeper and she might just have been rendered blind, but it ended. Yes, it ended. The room she face stretched out before her, crates strewn on both sides. The largest was far too narrow, though, and lengthy... very... lengthy. A serious feeling of Deja Vu was beginning to sweep over her, tightening the muscles in her stomach. Her bruises and gashes screamed at her to cease all this, but she walked forward, eyeing the crates. There just had to be prizes inside. Wonderful, flammable prizes. But the box at the end, this large, wooden box, she just couldn't shake. Tilting her head back, she eyed the ceiling. Rafters hovered above her, coming as a surprise. You didn't often see this in basements... cellars... what nots... But still, here they were. Something was seriously screwy with this design.

"You gothic freaks never had any sense of style," she complained audibly, her voice bouncing off the cement walls and returning to her. Damn, this was freaky. Still...

_This is stupid. I'm tired, hungry, cold, and I smell like a wet dog. I want to sleep for at least twenty years before dealing with this shit. I've done the chase scene, but this is out of the question. I'm poor, half naked, and standing in the middle of a depressed teenager's dream land. Screw this!_

Storming forward with a huff, she gripped the lid of the vertical box and heaved, grunting with the effort.

"Open... up.... stupid... box!!" When it wouldn't give, she kicked it sourly. Dust drifted downwards, covering the top of her head with a thin layer of dirt. Oblivious, she delivered one more kick and an unpolished punch, shaking the box where it stood.

With a deafening crack, the loose plank above fell and landed smack on her skull. All went numb. Her eye unfocused and blurred as she suddenly could feel nothing beneath her feet. It was as if the ground just wasn't there, like a cloud. Pretty cloud. Pretty box. Pretty man. 

She sank to her knees, unaware of the lid flat beside her. Slowly, she drew her eye higher and higher to the body erect before her. Long, black hair framing pallid skin. Black on black and black. Silly black people. Depression's for cats.

The last thing she saw was a pair of crimson eyes shooting through her, expressionless. Dead.Her body met the ground with a dull thud as her eye fell shut behind a russet curtain.


End file.
